The return of Zaros
by shadowb4dawn
Summary: (I strongly recommend you read Betrayal at Falador, since this story has a lot of references and characters from it.). Little is known about the Deserts far south of Al Kharid. So when a mysterious explorer comes to Falador warning of an ancient evil returning, no one knows how to react. The White Knights and their bitter enemies the Kinshra must work together to defeat this evil


Prologue: White Wolf Mountain

Captain Darren hated waiting. He was the kind of man that liked to finish tasks as fast as possible, so less work was done. It was this very ethic that put him in the situation he was in now. The cold, spine chilling winds wipped across his face, only adding to his irritation. He was tasked with escorting supplies from the Fortress {AN: Black Knight's Fortress} to their hidden base under Taverley. He had two options. He could have gone around the mountain, which would have taken a couple of days, or cut right through it and get there in about a half a day. The only dangers of the mountain were the wolves. He was not worried. He has a dozen men all armored; wolves would be no threat to him. There were, of course, the rumors of the recent ambushes in the mountains, but he dismissed this as just that: rumors. He was not expecting the snow storm that hit him 30 minutes in.

The blizzard made visibility poor, and he had to stay in the middle of the convoy so he could see everything, or at least what little he could see.

"Captain Darren!" One of his men shouted. Even as close as they were, he had to shout to be heard over the howling of the wind.

"What is it, Sadon?" Darren shouted back.

"Our scouts have returned with good news! There is a cave not far ahead we can hide in until the blizzard begins to subside!"

"Very well. Let us make haste then. The faster we can get out of this damned storm the better!"

The news brought relief to Darren. He hated this weather, and a warm meal sounded like the perfect commodity in the cold.

They reached the cave, and the convoy set up their fires and meals. Darren sat at a seperate fire away from his other men. He had no quarrels with them, but the blizzard had put him in a bitter mood. He sat quietly eating his warm broth, and ocassionally drank ale. The warmth of the meal brought him relief, but he was still very irritated. The laughter and shouting of the other men seemed distant to him, even though they were not very far from him. He heard them speak of numerous things, like reaccounting the events of the Siege of Falador. He sighed at this. He remembers the battle a couple years ago, but it seemed like yesterday to him. He always told himself that, if it was not for Sulla's obsession with the blonde haired girl (Who's name he couldn't quite remember) then perhaps they could have won the battle and siezed Falador. That was the past, however. What is done is done. Sulla has not been heard from since, and last anyone knew his werewolf companion saved him and ran off.

"Sir, do you mind if I join you over here?" Sadon asked. Darren had not noticed him approach since he was deep in thought.

"Be my guest." Darren said, motioning him to sit down on the other side of the fire.

"Thank you. Brom started spewing stories of how he once bested Kara-Meir in a duel. I needed a break from his lies."

_Kara-Meir. That was her name,_ Darren thought to himself.

"I can't say I blame you." He chuckled. He knew how Brom was infamous for such outrageous tales.

"So what do you think? About the recent ambushes on our convoys? Do you think it's the White Knight's doing?" Sadon asked.

"I don't believe so. We plan our supply routes so there's little interference from anyone, let alone the White Knight's. Also, there are rumors going around that White Knight convoy's are being ambushed as well, possibly from the same people."

"What's attacking them? Thieves or bandits?"

"That's the odd part. Whoever is doing it, they are very cunning and well coordinated. There aren't any witnesses, we can only assume once we find the caravan after it is marked as missing. The supplies are obviously all gone, but the bodies are what confuse us. There are no wounds, they are just there as if they just fell over and died."

"The works of a mage, perhaps?"

"Possibly, but again unlikely. Even a mage would leave a mark on their body. A burn or cuts. The body's we find are totally untouched."

"Interesting..." He trailed off. Darren didn't notice, because he suddenly felt an uneasy chill in the air. He felt like someone was watching him and the others. He looked towards the mouth of the cave and saw it was getting darker outside. The snow blocked any visibility, so he just shrugged it off.

Suddenly, there was a commotion from the other men. Darren and Sadon both jumped up, pulling their swords from their hilts. They ran to the other men, who formed a circle around one that was on the ground.

"What happened?" Darren asked as he knelt to the ground next to the fallen souldier. He was already pale, his eyes wide and his body rigid.

"We're not sure... He was talking about something that happened at Sinclair Mansion, then he just dropped to the ground." Darren inspected his body, but found no wounds. He put his hand on his chest, but felt no heartbeat: he was dead.

"He's dead." Darren said. Pandemonium broke out from the group. They began to panic and grab their weapons. Just as Darren was getting up, a glittering object on Brom's neck caught his attention, and he looked closer to see what it was. He pulled it out and saw it was a dart. He smelled the tip and it has the distinct smell of Kwarbum Paste: an extremely toxic material.

"Sir!" Someone shouted, and Darren looked up to see two hooded figures standing at the mouth of the cave. It was hard to tell who they were: they only wore long, bulky purple robes. Their hoods covered their face, but he could feel their stare.

"Who are you!" Darren shouted, his sword at hand. He was not afraid of fights: he was a very formidable duelist. There was no response.

"I cannot let you live for your actions, you scum! Prepare to die!" One of the hooded figures then raised it's hands, and a thick white smog erupted from them. Darren dropped to the ground, and he saw the other hooded figure pull out a long, deadly looking whip. It didn't look normal like other whips. This one was a dark black and red, and spiked protruted from it. It seemed to give off a demonic aura, because Darren suddenly felt very scared. It was a feeling he seldom experienced, but this time it was like no other. The smog filled the room, and he saw his other men grip their throats and drop to the ground screaming. He dared not to get up, but the bitter smell in the air indicated it was poisonious. He had never seen anything like it before. The smog then dissapeared, and Darren stood up and readied his sword. The hooded figure with the whip approached him, and he lunged for it. The hooded person flicked the whip, and it wrapped around his sword. It then pulled back with an unhuman force, and Darren lost his grip and balance and fell over. Before he could get up, the figure picked him up like he weighted nothing and threw him against a wall. The hood was down, and he now saw it was a female, very young. Perhaps not even a day over 17. Her eyes were an ominious purple: a color he has never seen before. Despite this, she was strikingly beautiful. Her tan skin indicated she must be from the deserts in the south east. He tried to stand up again, but she put her heel on his shoulder, keeping him in place.

"Who are you!" Darren growled.

"That is not importaint." The girl said. Her voice was mystic and soft, as if there was a hypnotic power to it. Her voice seemed to calm Darren, even though he knew she was the enemy.

"Are you the ones attacking all of our convoys?" He said, his voice less gruff.

"That, too is not importaint."

"Then Zamorak curse you!" He shouted, and a grin came across his face as he stabbed at her torso with his concealed dagger. He had expected her to fall backwards and try to retaliate, but she stayed totally still. A look of dissapointment came across her face as she pulled the dagger from her chest. There was no wound, and the armor under her robes stopped the blade. She tossed it aside, and pulled a dark red sword from her hilt. It was unlike anything Darren had ever seen before. It's dark red metal seemed so sharp it hurt his eyes just looking at it. She put it to his neck, and he closed his eyes.

"You will not get away with this! The Kinshra will hunt you down!"

"The Kinshra nor Zamorak scare me, rather it is you that should be scared." She said, with her same hypnotic voice, "You and your mens deaths will send a message to all who oppose us."

She swung the sword, and there was a breif scream. After that, the only sound that was heard was the howling of the wolves, and the wind that blew through the mountains.


End file.
